


Dance With Me

by LavernaG



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Dancing, Firewhiskey (Harry Potter), Friendship, hogwarts staff - Freeform, waltz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29202915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LavernaG/pseuds/LavernaG
Summary: Minerva McGonagall doesn't dance these days. But a certain Potions Master will have none of it. One-Shot.
Relationships: Minerva McGonagall & Severus Snape
Kudos: 18





	Dance With Me

**Author's Note:**

> This didn't quite turn out anything like I wanted it to, but I have had a terrible writing week and I'm just glad I persuaded myself to finish this. I promise the next one is gonna be better. Some heavy hints of MM/SS can definitely be found in this story, but that's all on you, 'cause in my head Minerva and Severus are just really close platonic friends.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and please leave me a comment if you do! :)

The Hogwarts staff Christmas party had always been a time when all the professors could, for once during their always-hectic school year, completely relax and enjoy themselves. Of course, one had to be on one's toes just in case the Headmaster came up with a new ridiculous idea how to entertain his staff. He was notorious for doing just that every year, and except for a few witches who couldn't restrain themselves when it came to eggnog, almost everyone found it a rather tiresome habit to say the least.

One had to admit, however, that this particular year Albus Dumbledore had held himself back from planning anything too frivolous. That is to say, until Mr. Filch proudly set up the old gramophone and the Headmaster got the hankering to move his old bones a little.

A gentle waltz filled the staff room as Albus made his way over to his Deputy at the refreshment table. He spoke her name and the witch raised her eyes from her punch glass.

Minerva studied the old wizard's joyful and expectant expression, the twinkling in his eyes, and had she presently been a cat, her ears would have pricked up at the music. She had no doubt about what her friend was going to ask her, but with a remorseful smile she shook her head even before he could speak. "I don't think so, Albus," she told him calmly.

Albus threw his hands up playfully, giving in. "All right, my dear."

The two of them had often danced together in the past, but the old wizard hadn't seen her on a dance floor ever since she had been widowed. Elphinstone had been a marvellous dancer—much better than Albus, as he readily admitted. The Headmaster had shortly learned that that fact must have held a special place in the witch's heart. There was an unspoken agreement between them that Albus wouldn't pry too much into that part of her life. And so he walked briskly over to Aurora Sinistra and lead the young and slightly tipsy witch into a delightful waltz.

Rolanda Hooch, who had just been robbed of her conversation partner, watched the pair for a long moment in thought before turning to her right. "Hey, Poppy," she addressed the school matron with a wide grin. "Wanna dance?"

Madam Pomfrey stared at her as if she had just sprouted another head.

"It doesn't matter we're both women," the younger witch pressed on and received an encouraging nod from the Head of Hufflepuff. They were amongst friends, after all. "I'll lead," she promised, offering her hand to the matron. "Come on, I know you love to dance."

Poppy appeared quite torn until Pomona gave her a friendly shove in Rolanda's direction, and with a shy smile she finally accepted the Flying instructor's hand. Satisfied, the Hufflepuff Head dropped into an armchair next to Filius.

"You know, if only I were a little bit taller…" he told her in an unusually melancholic tone, watching Irma Pince approach Argus Filch. The both of them blushed deeply when they began swaying to the music.

"Don't worry about it. I'd rather just rest my legs here," Pomona insisted. "I've been rushing about all day—oh! Would you look at that!" She had, apparently, also noticed the librarian and the caretaker's intimate moment.

"You have to admit they look happy," Filius commented, always the kind of friend to take joy in other's fortune.

Pomona snickered. "I just wonder where Mrs. Norris fits in," she said, "Irma detests pets." She looked around the staff room to see if she could find the cat—and her eyes stopped on their local Potions Master. Severus was standing beside the door, seemingly trying to melt into the wall and the Christmas tree next to him and to make himself as little as possible as Albus and Aurora swished past him. Not for the first time Pomona studied the young wizard from head to toes, contemplating aloud, "Who do you think Severus will ask?"

Filius looked uncertain. "If he does at all," he said thoughtfully. Professor Quirrell stepped gingerly around the two Heads of Houses' armchairs and stuttered a question at Charity Burbage, who accepted the dance with some mild hesitation.

Pomona shrugged. "Well, there aren't a great many options left." She glanced around the room again. Septima had apparently just agreed to accompany the limping and merry professor Kettleburn onto the dance floor. "That's another one gone," Pomona mentioned. "Now there's just me and-." She sniggered at the sight of the spindly Divination professor sitting on a wide windowsill and flipping though a deck of Tarot cards. "Wouldn't it be funny if he asked Sybill?"

Actually, Filius thought that it was be the Headmaster who would eventually take pity on the lonesome little woman and invite her to dance. The Charms professor dangled his feet, which didn't quite reach the floor from his armchair, and noticed with contentment that, for once, Cuthbert Binns had found himself someone to talk to in an uncannily cheerful Hagrid. Soon, however, his eyes caught the tall witch clad in emerald robes standing at the refreshment table. "And then there's Minerva, of course," he mused.

"That'll be the day," Pomona muttered, shaking her head sadly. "I don't think she has danced with anyone since Elphinstone passed away. Even Albus doesn't dare ask her any more."

Filius frowned slightly. Pomona had reminded him that he wasn't quite as close to the Transfiguration professor as she was and that he wasn't exactly privy to matters of Minerva's heart. "I for one think she'd be glad to if he did," he offered earnestly.

There was a long pause and Filius looked up at Pomona to see an already familiar smirk slipping onto her face; her eyes started twinkling rather like Albus's. "Ten sickles says she would refuse him if Severus did ask her," she declared in a mischievous tone.

Filius looked positively scandalized for a moment. "Minerva is a lady," he stated, "she wouldn't turn him down like that. You're on." With that he jumped out of the armchair.

Pomona hissed his name after him when the Charms professor approached the Potions Master. Severus acknowledged his presence with a nod, his eyes keenly fixed on Poppy and Rolanda, who seemed to be getting much too close to them for the young wizard's taste.

"Why don't you ask someone to dance, dear boy?" Filius asked casually, and without even looking up at the younger man, he could feel the incredulous glare he sent his way. "What's the point of brooding here in the corner?" Filius continued nonchalantly. "I'm sure you would enjoy it." He turned now to grin up at the tall wizard.

Severus arched his eyebrow, as if daring the Charms professor to reconsider his capability of enjoying anything.

"Minerva looks quite despondent over there," Filius mentioned lightly.

Without batting an eyelid Severus retorted drily, "I wouldn't want to add to her misery."

Filius tilted his head to the side thoughtfully and said in his best teacher voice, "Don't sell yourself short, Severus. I know for a fact that Minerva enjoys dancing very much." At least she had done so when she still danced, he added in his head. "Besides, it's Christmas—take a chance."

He left the young Potions Master with this suggestion and after a brief trip to the refreshment table for two glasses of punch, he rejoined Pomona by the fireplace and in the armchairs.

"How'd it go?" Pomona enquired in a tone of urgent secretiveness, accepting the punch.

Filius glanced back at the Potions Master still standing where he'd left him—but his penetrating black eyes were now nailed to the Transfiguration professor. "I never know with that boy," he answered honestly.

The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the dancers. Pomona nearly choked on her punch when Quirinus stumbled over his own robe and Charity had to catch him. Irma and Argus had retreated to stand beside the other windowsill while Sybill gloriously failed to disguise her reading of their future in her cards. Filius was happy to see Silvanus and Septima in perfect sync, with the witch taking heed of the old wizard's unfortunate disabilities and constantly reassuring him that she much preferred a calm and steady dance to whirling around the room the way the Headmaster and his partner were. It was a welcome surprise to hear Poppy laughing as Rolanda masterfully twirled her around. After a while a sharp nudge from Pomona made Filius squeak in alarm, and he looked in the direction the witch was quite indiscreetly pointing.

Severus moved over to the refreshment table in four long strides, his face unreadable. He came to a stop next to the Transfiguration professor, whose eyes were following the Headmaster. The Potions Master leaned forward a little before he made his presence known. "Minerva." The tall witch turned her head his way, her eyebrows raised as if she hadn't noticed his approach. Severus met her merrily gleaming eyes with fixed determination. "Would you like to dance?"

If Minerva was surprised, she hid the fact well, snorting with amusement instead. "You're joking," she replied flatly, the iciness in her tone completely uncalled for.

Something in the young wizard's eyes shifted, he clenched his jaw and straightened up, in doing so appearing almost a head taller than the witch. "You make me wish I was," he admitted seriously.

Minerva shook her head slightly, possibly sensing a well-hidden twinge of hurt in the man's voice and, in that case, ignoring it skilfully. "I'm sorry, Severus," she said evenly, and as if she had been rehearsing the following words in her head, closed her eyes and breathed, "I don't dance."

There was a long minute of silence, during which Severus kept his eyes stubbornly nailed to the witch's face, and Minerva turned away from him with a mildly remorseful but mostly resolute expression. Severus's voice was low and harsh when he finally replied, "Neither do I," and his hand reached blindly for the untouched bottle of Firewhiskey on the table.

"Ten sickles," Pomona mentioned airily to a flabbergasted Filius.

* * *

She must have stood there for a full minute before she finally managed to overcome her reservations and knock. She wasn't quite certain she had made the right decision when coming here. It wasn't as if they had never insulted each other before—either on purpose or unintentionally, and there had never been a need for any kind of apologies. It was not at all easy to get under the Slytherin's skin and each time she managed it, it brought upon a thrilling sensation of victory. But not this time. This hadn't been one of their deliciously heated brawls over Quidditch or an exchange of scathing, witty remarks about each other's Houses. This was, at least for Minerva, a personal matter, and as annoying as she found the fact to be, personal matters always had a way of unsettling her more deeply than she was ever comfortable with.

The heavy door was dragged open and Minerva was pulled out of her musings by two dark and piercing eyes focusing on hers. Severus held her gaze silently, his expression so sour that Minerva was shortly inclined to avert her eyes. She let them travel over the young wizard's figure briefly and noticed that he had already removed his robe for the evening, leaving him in his elegant black coat with three top buttons undone to reveal his white shirt. She registered the wand in his left hand and was momentarily struck by the realisation of why his students found him so terrifying. The man's towering form was silhouetted by the dim light inside his rooms, casting an uninviting shadow over his pale face.

When it became evident that the Slytherin was not keen on breaking the brooding silence between them, Minerva reminded herself to replace the mildly alarmed look in her eyes with a nonchalant one and asked, "Aren't you going to invite me in?" With an unconcealed wry smile she added, "I can promise you it's not half as difficult as asking me to dance."

Severus's frown lifted slightly and he stepped swiftly to his side to let the witch into the room. "Come on then," he complied in an astoundingly genial tone.

Minerva passed him with a contented, "Thank you," and found herself in the middle of a spacious and relatively empty room. With a jolt of unexpected surprise she realised she hadn't been inside the Head of Slytherin's rooms since Horace had left—and with him all the little touches he'd added to this place. The room certainly suited the new surly Potions Master well. The only pieces of furniture in the sitting room were a simple table and an even simpler chair in one corner of the room, a small cabinet next to and a single armchair in front of the fireplace, and tall heavy bookshelves that covered nearly the whole surface of the walls. The bleakness of the whole scene gave Minerva the impression that the wizard hadn't been planning on getting too comfortable at the castle when he'd moved in. Although the fire was lit, it was cold in the room, and Minerva imagined the situation wasn't any better in his bedroom or private laboratory.

Minerva started a little when the door fell back into its original position, and she noticed that the closed expression that had faltered for an instant earlier was back in place on the Potions Master's face. Minerva walked over to the fireplace to give herself some sense of direction and asked airily, "Did you enjoy the party?"

"Albus has had worse ideas." Severus's reply contained some of his usual sneer, which relaxed Minerva to some extent, and she heard him moving through the room. The next moment she noticed a half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey and a glass on the table he had returned to. Minerva reached her hands towards the fire to warm them and watched him swiftly emptying the glass.

"I can see you're not in a very good mood," she offered after he had been staring into the glass for a lengthier moment than she deemed decent.

Severus released an abrupt and dry laugh that was not entirely cheerless. "When am I ever?" he mocked himself, placed his glass down on the table with a quiet clink and turned to face his visitor. "It's been an extremely long day," he added, studying the witch's face, his dark eyes glimmering enigmatically in the flickering light. His mouth twisted into a wry smirk as he leaned against the table behind him. "I had some punch upstairs and Firewhiskey afterwards," he confessed lengthily, taking obvious pleasure in what he must have thought was wariness in his guest's expression. "I won't pretend I'm entirely sober. But I can assure you I am completely in charge of my senses."

Determined to maintain her fearless front as she remained alone in a mildly inebriated young man's private quarters in the middle of the night, Minerva shook her head. "I have no doubt about it," she replied, for she really couldn't imagine Severus ever losing his self-control outside of the Quidditch pitch. "However, I won't keep you for long."

She took a deep breath, as a Gryffindor does when faced with confessing a wrongdoing to a Slytherin, and let her expression soften when she said, "I wanted to apologise." She would thank Merlin later that Severus didn't react with a scathing comment during the moment Minerva took to push the Gryffindor lion inside her off its high horse and find her next words—in fact, he barely reacted at all. "I realise it was very rude of me to turn you down earlier when you so gallantly asked me to dance."

In an overwhelming and unexpected act of kindness, Severus shattered the tense atmosphere in the room with a tolerant shrug of his shoulders and reached behind himself for the bottle. "Why did you?" he asked conversationally, watching the witch from the corner of his eye as he poured himself another drink. He raised a quizzical eyebrow at her, tilting the bottle towards her, but Minerva refused the wordlessly offered drink with a sharp shake of her head.

Wringing her hands, she took a moment before replying. She wasn't about to enlighten him on the irreplaceable qualities of her late husband, but she supposed even a vague answer would suffice in the current situation. "It was always a very… intimate thing for me," she confessed with unusual openness, "and I suppose I haven't considered getting this close to anyone for a long time. Physically or otherwise."

Severus remained silent for a long moment, regarding the strong witch, who had just opened up a well-hidden part of herself to him, with a curious, contemplative expression. Minerva could see an unreasoning glint of comprehension in his shadowed eyes, and his lips twitched twice before he finally uttered, "I can understand that." His voice had always been contained but for the first time Minerva thought she detected a rare gentleness in it. "Better than you think," he added before his face closed and the mask of professor Snape concealed his unintentionally exposed emotions again.

Taking that to indicate the Potions Master had endured more than his sufficient dose of conversation-making for the day, Minerva heaved a silent, contented sigh of accomplishment. "I'm glad that's cleared up," she mentioned lightly, stepping back from the fireplace. She scanned the wizard slouching against the table for a lengthy moment, noting to herself with wistful regret how much older and wearier the yellow candlelight made him appear. "Well," she declared quietly, and although Severus was staring intently at her, she got the feeling he wasn't aware she had spoken, "I won't disturb you any longer."

She had already made it to the door when Severus spoke again. "How long?"

Minerva turned around with a puzzled, "Excuse me?"

"How long has it been like this?"

His tone was even and serious, and to her great annoyance Minerva suddenly felt like one of his students, being interrogated about a late homework or a botched up potion. Her hand dropped from the doorknob and she tried to focus her eyes on something other than the wizard's relentlessly shrewd eyes. "A few years," she uttered vaguely.

"I see." Minerva frowned at the patronising tone in his voice as the young wizard raised his glass to his lips. "And it will be for at least a few more. Am I correct?"

Naturally, he was right, and somehow Minerva got the feeling they weren't merely talking about dancing any more. Minerva hadn't considered opening up her heart for anyone, possibly, ever again. Back in the day she had promised herself to never again subject herself to the kind of intolerable heartache she had had to endure when her husband had passed. And with that decision she had, almost unknowingly, also shut out a number of pleasures she felt could weaken her stony facade. It was an unfortunate side-effect, of course, but Minerva didn't quite dare look for a way past it, lest she get hurt in the process.

But Severus didn't need to know any of this. All he'd done was ask her to dance, and Minerva felt silly for letting a simple gesture like that upset her so. Slowly she started, "I don't-."

"I do," Severus interrupted her rather harshly. There was a long pause during which Minerva incredulously pondered why in Merlin's name the man even bothered to devote any time and mind to her feelings at all. Then in a gentler voice Severus added, "I've been there."

The suddenly amicably candid atmosphere in the room momentarily astonished and then unsettled the Gryffindor. Feeling she ought to at least attempt to restore the usual professional reticence between them, she schooled her voice into a restrained tone when she said, "Well, in that case, you must know how hard it would be for me to break down this barrier."

Severus paused in obvious deep contemplation and Minerva realised for the umpteenth time how very little sense she could make of the Potions Master and how well he could probably read her. It seemed Severus had come to some sort of conclusion by the time he emptied his glass and set it aside on the table. "It doesn't have to be you," he stated in a low voice, and as if the beverage had provided him with the energy necessary to do so, he drew himself up to his full height. His eyes glimmering mysteriously in the candlelight, Severus appeared quite menacing all of a sudden.

"Severus." Minerva had meant to sound firm, warning, but as the man slowly stepped forward, she found her hand twitching towards her wand and she forgot to control her voice. With an overwhelming pang of recognition she remembered exactly whose sitting room she was standing in and wondered briefly if, in the past, his victims had also been granted the same ghastly glare with which he was regarding her now. "What are you thinking?"

An instant later she decided that the distance between the two of them was becoming far too small for her liking; fast as lightning, Minerva reached into her pocket and grabbed her wand—and Severus grabbed her. Minerva found herself pressed up against the tall wizard's body, her wrist seized carefully by Severus's hand. The shocking closeness brought with it a bitter reminder that Minerva hadn't felt the strong hold of masculine arms for the longest of times. She detected the sharp scent of Firewhisky mixed with that of the man himself, and as it merged in her head with the dull pounding of her own accelerated heartbeat, the witch found herself fighting valiantly against a fresh, insistent light-headedness.

Stunned, for the time being, into silence, Minerva held her breath, staring at Severus's curved lips when he softly whispered, "Dance with me."

Minerva felt a grim warning clenching at her heart, urging her to overcome her stupefaction and shake her head resolutely. "You're mad," she declared, glaring up at the pair of dark gleaming eyes. "Let me go." She wouldn't give Severus the satisfaction of struggling against his grasp, although she was more than convinced she would be able to break free had she tried. Instead, she poured every drop of authority she possessed into her demand.

"I'm drunk," Severus corrected her calmly. "And I won't." Undeterred by Minerva's scowl, he leaned forward, his eyes squinted with daring intent and he rumbled, "I didn't think a Gryffindor would shy away from a harmless dance."

He was so close to her now that Minerva could feel his breath against her skin. She felt heat rising in her cheeks and turned her face to the side, escaping their tense staring contest. Harmless as his intentions might or might not have been, Minerva was feeling all too exposed by the unbroken connection of their bodies to even defend her own House. "Severus, there is no music," was the best excuse she could come up with, acutely aware of his eyes still burning into her skin.

The wizard didn't answer, and when Minerva felt confident enough to face him again, she realised he, too, had turned his head. She followed his pointed gaze to their joined hands and to the wand still clutched loosely between her fingers. In an instant she knew what Severus was thinking, and never mind the honour of her House, Minerva could not let her own powers be questioned. She flicked her wand in the direction of the little cabinet beside the fireplace and transfigured it neatly into a gramophone. Somewhere along the way she had to have unconsciously accepted Severus's nearly aggressive proposal, since without even another spell the gramophone started playing a soft, slow waltz.

Severus quirked an eyebrow at her in amusement. "You call that a waltz?" he drily taunted the witch. His long fingers wrapped around her wand hand and pointed the wand at the instrument again. Instantly the music blended into another melody—it was faster; it was eerie and dark, and yet equally smooth and mysterious. Unsurprisingly, those words also appropriately described the man who had chosen the piece.

He didn't move right away, waiting, it seemed to Minerva, belatedly for some silent confirmation from her, and since she didn't exactly express any vehement objection, the fire in his eyes softened ever so slightly, while his face hardened with determination. His right hand drew Minerva closer still, and once he detected a suitable moment in the music, with the astonishing agility that Minerva had only ever associated with her own Animagus form, Severus led her into the alluring waltz.

It was certainly not like any other waltz Minerva had ever danced before. She couldn't remember another time in her life when she had been so oblivious to her surroundings and so exquisitely at her partner's mercy. Somehow Severus managed to steer her around the room without bumping into anything and when they passed what Minerva supposed was the fireplace, he carefully wrung her wand out of her hand and placed it on the mantelpiece without once breaking the mesmeric trance of their dance.

The frantic pounding of her heartbeat was drowned out by the enthralling music, and in spite of her practised forbidding reservations, Minerva kept her eyes nailed to her partner's smouldering ones. The curtain of black hair that hung on either side of his face cut off the rest of the room from Minerva's view and blindly she trusted Severus to guide her across the stone floor. She was acutely aware of his hips pressed firmly against hers, of his thigh between hers, giving her body directions which her mind was not entirely aware of until the two of them were already moving along Severus's indicated path. In spite of herself Minerva was able to relax in his almost professional hold and, pinned soundly against him, followed Severus's lead with the deceivingly thrilling sensation of doing something outrageous. For what felt like an eternity they were moving perfectly as one, gliding through the still, cool air, hardly touching the floor. And when the haunting melody finally came to a well-placed elaborate end, Minerva was momentarily released from her partner's grasp, steered to twirl underneath his arm, captured once again and lowered into an unexpected dip.

With a gasp of panic Minerva dug her nails into Severus's shoulder but was otherwise unable to move. Her anxious gaze drew from the deliciously unique curve of Severus's parted lips to his piercing black eyes. If it weren't for his brash demeanour, Minerva could have believed he was equally entranced by their intimate position, as she was. She was once again proven a terrible judge of character when Severus's dark and sensual voice shattered the tense silence. "You'd better tell me if I have assaulted you, otherwise I will take you for a tango."

It was most definitely a warning, but for the briefest of moments Minerva allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to tango with the surprisingly skilled wizard she now considered attractive for the first time. The thought both thrilled and shocked her, and with girlish coyness she freed her hand from Severus's grip and pressed it up against his chest in a gentle protest. "I think one dance," she found her voice again, "is quite enough for tonight."

The fervent gleam in Severus's eyes didn't falter, but Minerva could read reluctant agreement in his face when he drew her up to a standing position again and released her without the slightest hint of inappropriate lingering. He gave a slow nod of his head and stepped back, giving Minerva enough personal space to compose herself.

She ran her hands down her sides, straightening out her robes to provide herself with something to do. Having lost the intoxicating physical connection, Minerva felt particularly out of place and wanted desperately to get out of these dungeons as quickly as possible. "I'd better go now," she mentioned distractedly and, peculiarly unable to look Severus in the eye, she turned on the spot and strode over towards the door, her robes swishing the same way they had only a minute ago during the dance.

"I would very much like," Severus stopped her once again, "to have my liquor cabinet back."

Minerva felt with annoyance that she must have been blushing as she turned back to face the young wizard. He had followed her to the door and was holding her wand out to her. Without further delay Minerva snapped it up and flicked it towards the gramophone with unnecessary vigour. The cabinet reappeared with a loud disapproving crackle.

Severus was smirking at her with amusement, she realised when she raised her eyes to meet his. But it was not the way he usually did, say, when he had managed to get the upper hand on an argument about Quidditch. He seemed more delighted than anything else, and somehow Minerva understood that it was because he had been able to help her begin to break through that protective mental barrier she had erected such a long time ago.

"Thank you," Minerva said with even more fondness than the situation would have called for.

Severus's expression softened ever so slightly and he replied with words that Minerva had never thought him capable of uttering. But then again, she hadn't thought he could dance so well, either. "Merry Christmas, Minerva."

_The End_


End file.
